PAINting
by Yu-tan
Summary: During a spell of peace, Ritsuka asks to see Soubi's studio. In the end, its always more than the paint on the surface of the canvas- it's brilliance of color within, that shines to the other like the late summer sun.
1. Chapter 1

"Can I see your studio?"

Soubi looked at the younger boy in surprise. Ritsuka had never made such a request before.

"Of course, but why?"

Ritsuka looked away, embarrassed.

"I just want to."

Soubi put away his cellphone after Kio hung up, who had called about their end of the term exhibit and to apologize that he couldn't make it to the university for the figure modeling session.

"Well, I was on my way there anyway... Hm, how about we make a trade?"

Ritsuka cocked his head, looking at him inquiringly.

"A trade?"

Soubi smiled.

"Kio was suppose to model for me today, do think you could fill in? It's not hard."

Ritsuka nodded.

---

"Is it all right if we do the sketch first? Someone's in the gallery studio right now."

Soubi unlocked the doors for the figure modeling studio, flicking the light switch. Ritsuka noticed two important things from the sketches lining the walls: they were all very good, and they were all very naked.

"Er... Was Kaidou-san going to... Um..."

Ritsuka flushed, suddenly feeling very self conscious.

"It's his part time job actually, nude modeling. Oh," Soubi caught the apprehension on Ritsuka's face. "Don't worry, you can model just as you are now," he said calmly, flipping to a clean page in his sketchbook, testing out his pencils.

"But... It has to be a fair trade, right? Kaidou-san was going to help you with your work, so I will help properly too," Ritsuka insisted, privately mortified at what he was going to do, but pushed on by his innate sense of responsibility. He had gotten off the cellphone hanging around his neck and his t shirt before Soubi closed and locked the doors. "So we don't get disturbed," Soubi said casually, "And I don't get arrested," he added silently to himself, sitting down by his easel. Ritsuka had such a strong sense of justice; it was really too cute.

"Soubi, is this OK?" he asked, getting up on the sheet covered stool, heels resting against the crossbars, elbows on his knees. He shivered, the high ceiling fans pushing the air around noiselessly. "Why don't you face the windows, so I can do a profile," Soubi suggested gently, trying to coax the boy to relax. Ritsuka complied, scooting around, trying to ignore the goosebumps on his bare thighs.

"Take it easy, Ritsuka, it's only me," Soubi said off handedly, pencil racing across the heavy sketch paper.

"I'm nervous because of you, idiot," Ritsuka thought to himself, staring through the narrow slits in the venetian blinds, stealing glances of the other man at work. Soubi had this weird expression- a cross between calm and tense, like the countenance of concentration he wore going into a spell battle, but more fluid.

Soubi smiled at the other boy, causing him to look away immediately with a scowl. He corrected a small line in the sketch, glancing back up at his model. All previous models were adults or other students, they lacked the fine bone structure or the compact arrangement of tiny limbs, and all the little details that spilled forth onto the paper.

But Ritsuka was getting anxious, he could tell, by the way his tail disrupted the folds in the sheet. Ah, of course, the tail, the branding of innocence that reminded him to keep himself in check. He scrutinized the way it led off from the base of his spine, superficially linked to the coccyx.

He smiled inwardly this time, taking out his eraser.

--

"There, we're all done."

Ritsuka flushed with relief, hopping off the stool to get changed. Soubi stared at his work, wondering what- or who exactly it was he drew, so like the child yet imbued with something different, something he wanted to own.

"Can I see it?"

Soubi offered the sketchbook to the other, grateful he asked, so that Ritsuka could shout and reprimand him for being weird and then he could let go of the picture. Instead, Ritsuka held it silently for a few minutes, before nodding, and returning it to Soubi.

"It's good."

Soubi accepted the compliment gratefully, releasing a breath he didn't realize he had held while Ritsuka assessed his art. He stowed away his supplies, holding the door open for the other.

"Shall we move on?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Here's the studio," Soubi said quietly, unlocking the door where the pieces for the summer exhibition were stored. He flicked the switch, the dull fluorescent lights flickering on, illuminating the wall covered with a variety of canvases. Gently leading the other to the back wall where his paintings hung, he watched the younger boy's expression with not a little anxiety.

Ritsuka stood, stunned. On the wall were numerous paintings, all centered around the huge canvas that was a great deal bigger than himself. Upon it the immense wings of a brilliant blue butterfly spread out before him, captures in canvas and paint, but alive in a way he envied.

And the sadness. There was just a gut wrenching reaction to every line, every spot of paint that made him want to look away, but captivated him in a sense stronger than a spell battle's restriction. His breath caught in his throat as he started to say something, fingertips shying away from the surface of the canvas.

"The paintings are all... crying," he murmured quietly, not even aware the words had left his lips. But the words were spoken, falling upon the ears of the watchful man behind him. Soubi shifted uneasily, realizing the younger boy was instinctively more perceptive than he gave him credit for. Suddenly, he felt like he was more exposed than he had ever been in his twenty years on earth. Ritsuka's unblinking gaze on the wall was harder to bear than the longest "discipline" sessions he ever had to endure under Ritsu's whip, and those slender fingers poised inches away from the canvas hovered like the blade that inscribed the name upon his throat. Stripped of his shield of smiles and pretenses of endurance, he waited . And then it passed as quickly as it came, with the small boy turning to him.

"These are really good," Ritsuka said in a hushed tone, as if he didn't want to disturb the paintings. Soubi nodded, leading him out of the studio. Ritsuka took one last look over his shoulder, the paintings back to simply being boards of canvas and paint, the echoing sorrow and wistfulness ringing in his ears. He felt heavier, leaving the university building, as if something had escaped from Soubi's work into his chest, clinging there with all its strength. Ritsuka found that he didn't mind, even if it hurt a little.

--

The pair sat in the park, idly consuming lunch, looking for all the world a child and his guardian, probably a babysitter or a relative.

"When is your exhibition?" Ritsuka asked, popping the top on the can of juice.

"Next week," Soubi replied, smiling gently for the boy's sake. "Would you like to come see it?"

Ritsuka nodded, pleased at the idea. Maybe Yuiko would like to come too. "Hey Soubi..."

"Yes, Ritsuka?"

"Did Seimei see your artwork and stuff too?" he asked.

"No," Soubi said quietly, looking at him intently. Why was Ritsuka asking this? "He did not particularly care for what I did when we were not working," Soubi said, leaving the unspoken qualifier: _Because he only cared about you_.

"I see," Ritsuka said, filled with a warm wash of relief, and then sudden cold guilt. _Why am I relieved Seimei never saw his art?_ he thought, shivering even though the air was warm. It frightened him a little, such feelings, pushing them vigorously away in his mind.

"It's almost curfew."

Soubi nodded at the unspoken order, or had it just become a habit in their days together? He took the boy's small hand in his own, who was too wrapped up in his thoughts apparently to even protest the casual intimacy he would have made a big deal of on a given day. In the warm summer evening, the streets empty and silent, it was easy to slip into the dream they were in a painting, a defined world only for its two subjects.

"I love you Ritsuka."

Ritsuka said nothing at that, but Soubi felt that small hand tighten around his, and smiled.


	3. Epilogue

"Sou-chan! What is the meaning of this?!"

Soubi didn't answer Kio. Too many conversations have opened with this line, and they all generally end the same, so Soubi couldn't find much motivation to answer.

"Ritsuka's ears! Where are they?!"

Actually Ritsuka wasn't even in the room, as Kio stumbled upon the sketch on the table, looking mortified.

"You took his ears and then you _proceeded to draw a picture?_"

Soubi finally decided now might be a good time to answer before Kio stabbed him with the pointy end of the paintbrush.

"Artistic license."

Kio spluttered, staring at him in disbelief as his friend tugged the sketch gently from his hands, clipping it to the easel.

"Artistic license my ass," Kio muttered darkly

--

The exhibition had gone very well. Ritsuka didn't question him much either about why Kio pulled on his ears quite firmly when they met him at the gallery. Soubi was walking him home, remaining silent and elusive on the flat square package he carried with him.

After Soubi invited himself into Ritsuka's room, he presented the other with his gift, watching him with a smile as he unwrapped the heavy framed painting.

"Is it for me?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Ritsuka looked carefully at the painting of himself. It was beautiful, as were all of Soubi's paintings, but it was different. He couldn't quite say how, but only recognized that his other paintings pushed pins into his lungs, but he could breathe easier looking at this one. And most importantly, it was a part of Soubi he could call his own.

A/N: Written a few months back, I was working mainly on character interaction, voice, and bemusing situations. Probably one of the more light-hearted pieces I've written, which says something about me, sadly enough. Thanks for reading.


End file.
